Coloured Strokes
by kaaaaarl
Summary: Claude Faustus is an undiscovered artist, living in a monochromatic life. Can Alois Trancy - an up and coming model- be the one to bring colour back into his life?   ClaudexAlois AU.
1. Chapter 1

Claude Faustus's night, well early morning actually, was not going well. At all. His apartment was silent apart from the sounds of his paintbrush scritching the canvas, painting a blur of black, white and grey. His hand was beginning to cramp from holding the brush at an awkward angle for hours, and his eyes were swimming with tiredness, yet he still kept going with his task.

_A few more hours and then it would be done_. He tried to convince himself wearily. That was also what he had said a few hours before then. And a few hours before _that._ He was well aware that he was lying to himself, but the lie helped him paint with new enthusiasm for a bit longer, the brush making meticulous lines, gradually forming a image depicting a lonely seascape.

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><p>Claude awoke to his alarm blaring, an incredibly obnoxious sound filling his small bedroom. A pale arm shot out from underneath the warm covers, he cringed at the cold prickling on his bare arm, his hand groping the air trying to locate the off button, so he could return to his much wanted slumber.<p>

He finally found the button and the alarm stopped its noise. He was about to pull the dark gold duvet over his head and fall back asleep when he remembered with a jolt the reason he had set his alarm that early.

The meeting.

Claude glanced at his alarm clock, the numbers glowing a luminescent blue and scowled. No sane person should be waking at six-thirty in the morning. Ever! It was an utterly ungodly hour! For fucks sake it was still dark outside, Claude noted with disdain as he rolled up the rooms blinds to check the weather. Rain was already rolling down the window in large rivers and he could hear wind howling and rustling the trees that lined the street outside his small apartment.

All in all it was typical weather in England. It was shaping up to be a rather mundane day. Just like any other day really. It was as if all the colour was leaching out of his life, leaving him trapped in a world that consisted only of shades of grey. And it (not that he'd ever admit it to anyone) frightened him. Why shouldn't it? Who could possibly want to live in a world that lacked vibrancy. Except . . . To Claude it felt like he was already there. Monotony ruled his life as of late, suffocating him with an air compiled of regret and unfulfilled dreams.

His internal monologue was cut short as his cellphone began to vibrate frantically on the floor, where he had haphazardly chucked it last night before crawling into bed, indicating _one new text message._

He sighed when he realised who was most likely the sender of the text. Never the less he reached down and grabbed the phone before flipping it open and sighing as his suspicions were confirmed.

_[1] new text message_

_From: Hannah Anafellowz_

_Sent: 6:35a.m_

_Claude, remember the meeting! You better be here before 7 or I'll absolutely throttle you. Understand? God help me if you're even 1 sec late.-xo_

Why the bloody fuck did she feel the need to add 'xo' to the end of what was otherwise a rather bitchy and demanding text? It didn't make it any less annoying! If anything, it made it even more so! Women absolutely baffled Claude. He was also a little bit offended that she apparently thought of him as someone who needed constant reminding. (If the last week had been anything to go by, his inbox was near bursting with text's from Hannah, all reminding him about the _meeting_.)

Sure, he owed his agent a lot, she was after all the woman who had kick-started his (albeit small) career as an artist.

_Sent [1] message_

_To:Hannah Annafellows_

_Sent:6:37am _

_yeah yeah, dnt panic, il b there. Just giv me 5 mins to get ready then il leave k?_

_[1] new text message_

_From: Hannah Annafellows_

_Sent: 6:38am_

_You better. And hurry. This is important._

Ooooh, no 'xo' this time. She must be pissed, Claude noted. An unhappy Hannah generally equaled an unhappy Claude.

He could just imagine the woman tapping her manicured nails against the nearest surface, waiting impatiently. He tapped out a quick reply before rummaging through the rubbish on his floor for a pair of jeans.

_Sent [1] new message._

_To:Hannah Annafellows_

_Sent:6:39 am_

_K._

_[1] new text message_

_From Hannah Annafellows_

_Sent: 6:40am_

_I mean it, Claude. I have a number of issues I want to discuss with you._

She was always so formal in text and emails. . . Always reminding Claude that their relationship was strictly _professional._

_Pft, As if I would even try anything with her . . . For one, she's _at least_ ten years older then me. And secondly, she has a vagina. No thanks. _

_Sent [1] new message_

_To:Hannah Annafellows_

_Sent 6:42am_

_I already said K._

Hannah could be insufferable sometimes, he thought with a grim smile. However, he owed her, so he would plaster on a polite smile and attend her little meetings at the coffee shop just down his block.

He pulled on a pair of his beloved ripped up jeans and threw on a faded and tattered old plaid shirt, before running his hands through his messy raven locks in a mock attempt to brush out the tangles that seemed to permanently reside in his hair.

He began to leave his room, trying to avoid the clutter that covered his floor.

_He should really get 'round to cleaning that sometime-_

Claude got caught up in thought until he accidentally trod on a opened tube of burnt sienna paint that somehow got left lying on his floor amidst a pile of paintbrushes of various sizes.

"Fuck!" the expletive left his mouth as the gooey acrylic squirted his bare foot, and his carpet.

The acrylic paint quickly spread into his pale carpet, coating the fibres a dark brown. Claude immediately regretted not having wooden floors where he could simply wipe away the paint with a cloth. Instead he was faced with the arduous task of spraying chemicals and scrubbing until his hands felt raw. The paint was already starting to dry, and clump fibers together in a sticky mess.

He shot a glance at the old clock hanging on his wall and realized that he had to be at the coffee shop in fifteen minutes, leaving him a dilemma, risk Hannahs wrath by being late, and clean his carpet? Or does he start jogging to the coffee shop now, least he be late for this very important meeting? He wasted yet another minute trying to choose, and just as he was about to go rummage in the cupboard underneath the kitchen sink for cleaning product (hey, he didn't want to have to deal with stained carpet when he came back from the meeting) he received yet another text from Hannah, telling him the meeting time had changed and that he was instead expected at the coffee shop in ten minutes.

… Well that solved Claudes dilemma rather quickly. Attempting to push all thoughts of paints and carpets out of his head, Claude pulled on a ratty pair of canvas sneakers and began to leave, nearly tripping over a half-finished painting that lay near the door. Quickly he began to jog to the shop, ignoring the rain pelting his skinny frame.

Claude finally arrived at the coffee shop with the flashy sign proudly proclaiming their 'low low low prices!' along with offering weary passerby's a place of rest. He checked his phone briefly to see the time, and found he was a whole three minutes late. Hannah was going to absolutely kill him! He braced himself as he pushed open the large door, slinking into the heated room with slight trepidation about the whole ordeal.

He still wasn't entirely sure what the meeting was about, just that Hannah had told him (many, many times) it was Important. With a capital 'I'.

Was she displeased with his work? The idea left a bitter taste in Claude mouth. He put the utmost care in his work, painting with delicate strokes, and although he hadn't quite made it in the art world just yet, he was sure one day he would.

_Well_, Claude thought, _only one way to find out._

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><p><strong>AN: Oh gosh guys, whats this I'm writing? Not crack! IMPOSIBRU. So bear with me for a bit, I'm tryna do more slightly/ serious writing**

**This is ridiculously narrative at the moment, however think of it more as a prolouge. Next chapter there will be dialogue! And we get to meet Hannah! **

**This is probably going to be a slow, meandering story, with a fair amount of angst, it will also cover more issues that can possibly be personal/upsetting for some, so those easily offended/upset shouldn't read later chapters maybe. Reader discretion advised trololol. This story will not just be in standard format, it will also have text messaging, emailing, letters etc.**

**Reviews would be very much appreciated, if you want (:**

**Here's just some quick notes on this AU if you want ^_^**

**-It's set in pretty much modern day England**

**-Claude's just out of art school, by a few years (?) He's in his early 20's**

**-Hannah is an agent for different talents, models, artists, photographers etc. She helps get people their big break. She's in her early 30's**

**-Hannah found Claude when he was still in art school, and has been his agent-like thing since then, however Claude is still very much unknown.**

**-Claude paints meticulously, no gestural art for him :P he also paints in black and white (grey) he's very monochromatic.**

**-Yes, Claude is gay :P Incase you couldn't tell from the whole EWWW LADYBITS.**

**-Alois will be coming in soon aswell, and yes, he will be Claude's love interest. He's in his late teens. 19 (?)**

**-Claude lives alone in a shitty apartment, he's a poor mofo. **

**-I picture Claude to be pretty Indie/Boho in this AU, also pretty hipsterish.**

**-Sebastian and Ciel will be making an appearance much later on. **

**On a side note, this is probably going to be slowly updated, personal life is a wee bit hectic atm/ along with rather soul crushing. **


	2. Chapter 2

Claude pushed his way into the coffee shop, feeling its warmth gently wash over him with the aroma of freshly ground coffee beans. Also, because he is Claude- and Claude can never be completely content with something, mentally judging the tacky decorations and the generic music playing softly in the background.

"Hi! Welcome! Are you here alone or meeting someone?" A cheery brunette woman with a perpetual smile and a nametag that read 'Paula' asked. "Uh, meeting someone." He replied, nodding in a vague gesture towards the private booths where he knew Hannah would be waiting impatiently. "Ok sure thing sweetie! I'll be there to take your order in a minute." And with that and a wink, she was off.

Claude spotted Hannah straight away, impeccably dressed (as usual) in a pencil skirt and tight blouse showing off her, uh, assets. The bleached hair that was so platinum it was nearly white was also a huge give away, done in the trademark braid she had been wearing since Claude had met her. "Oh Claude, I'm so glad to see you arrived. Finally." She sniped and gave a Claude a look. "Hannah. As always it's a _pleasure_." Claude gave a small smile as he said this – They may bicker a lot but she did mean a lot to him. She was the closest thing he had to a friend, and even he knows how pathetic that is. Claude considered himself to be a decent bloke, but the truth was that he failed in any and all types of social interactions.

"So… why did you want to meet me?" Claude pretended like his heart wasn't pounding with nervousness, he was _Claude_ he reminded himself, he didn't get _nervous_. "Well there's bad news and good news, what do you want first?" Fuck. So there _was_ something wrong, he knew it! Work had been slow lately, and his paintings were only selling for the bare minimum if at all.

"Bad news." The air was closing in around him, suffocating, he struggled to remain calm, this was the end of his career, he could feel it.

"Claude I'm going to be brutally honest with you, your work just isn't getting a lot of interest, sales are substantially down. Nobody wants a painting that depresses them. We're really going to have figure out whether it's a good idea for me to continue representing you. I'm sorry." Claude's mind was going a hundred miles a minute trying to comprehend what the blonde had said… His paintings- depressing? He liked his paintings, the monochrome of it all, the desolate landscapes, the sort of haunting loneliness they expressed but he didn't consider them 'depressing'. And what was he going to do without Hannah representing him? He would have to get another job – a 'proper' one! He wasn't really qualified for anything besides painting... What the fuck was he going to do with his life? He could barely afford paying the rent as it was. "Oh." He finally managed to croak out, pushing his glasses up higher on his nose, looking up at the blonde woman.

Hannah offered a sad smile, "I really am sorry Claude." He bristled a bit at that, he didn't want her sympathy "Don't be. It's not your fault after all, it's mine. I'm the one that failed."

Hannah sighed at that, Claude could be- no, scratch that- _was_ incredibly self-depreciating when he wasn't be a sarcastic asshole. "Just let me give you the good news too, okay?" When Claude didn't answer she continued "The good news, Claude, is that I have found someone that wants to commission a portrait from you. Maybe this will be your saving grace."

Claude was stunned; someone had actually requested a painting from him? But wait- "A portrait!?" Claude spluttered, "I don't do portraits, especially not of actual _people_!" A disdained look quickly spread along his face, his lips curling into a grimace.

"Tough shit. The person who wants this painting prefers to stay anonymous, but has a model picked out already. Who- as a matter of fact, will be joining us soon!" Hannah beamed as she said the last part; she was all for forcing social interaction onto Claude (it made up for all the times he ever implied that she was old).

"No, Hannah, seriously! I don't know how to paint people! And the model's probably horribly boring and old!" Alright, Claude knew he was whining and that it was pathetic, but he really didn't like talking to new people, and especially painting them. "Looks like you're going to have to learn then. And don't worry; this is actually a professional model, so he'll at least be professional."

As soon as the word 'professional' left Hannah's lips the café grew silent as a young man who looked to be in his late teens walked, no, strutted in, dressed like an utter – how does Claude phrase this politely?- tramp. Shorts that barely covered anything exposed lean, long legs which ended in heeled boots, and an off the shoulder t-shirt with the lettering 'YOLO' across the chest wasn't raking up any classy points, nor was the messy blonde hair. The oversized ray bans were unnecessary (it was raining for fucks sake!), and the icing on the tramp cake was the thigh high stockings.

"Oh. My. God. Who's that? Look at him! Look at those clothes! Why would anyone even think it's okay to wear that?" Claude snickered, feeling sorry for whoever had to deal with the obviously attention seeking male when he saw Hannah bury her face in her hands.

"…Hannah, no. Please, Hannah, tell me that's not the model… Hannah?" Claude's fears were realised when she nodded her head and whispered an affirmation, and the male made his way over to the table.

"Hannah! Hi! Oh, and you to- whatever your name is." The blonde said with a dismissive glance at Claude, leaning in to give Hannah an air kiss before plopping down in the booth beside Claude lazily.

"It's Claude. Claude Faustus." He informed icily, before asking whether the blonde would be as polite as to share his own name.

"Oh, you haven't heard of me?" The blonde looked a little disappointed, before immediately perking back up "Well Claude, I'm Alois Trancy" Alois said his name grandly, stretching out a few letters.

"No, I haven't."

"Oh."

"Alois! So good to see you! I'm so glad you could make it, and I _know_ Claude has just been dying to meet you, haven't you Claude?" she glared at Claude slightly, getting her point across with a discreet kick to his shins under the table. "Yeah." Claude agreed, less than enthusiastically. Truth be told, he found Alois rather unbearable, and he had only known him two minutes.

Alois giggled and waved his hands around, saying that it was is absolute _pleasure_ to meet the guy who was going to be painting him. And was Claude imagining it or did Alois really run his tongue over his lips as he said 'pleasure'?

The awkward conversion was momentarily paused when the brunette server came over to ask for their orders, a skim milk cappuccino for Hannah, a long black for Claude, and a "Diet water, thanks" for Alois. Claude turned to look at Alois sceptically as Paula wrote down the order, looking confused. As she hurried back to the kitchen Claude asked Alois just what the fuck he meant by a diet _water? _

And with a little huff Alois tried to explain to Claude that _yes_, there _was_ such a thing as diet water, it was water that was lower in calories than _regular_ water. Which of course turned into a debate about how there is no such thing as diet water, diet fizzy _yes_, diet juice _yes_, diet water however did not exist. And it maybe ended with Claude proclaiming "Well, whatever, it's not like I expected a ditzy model, of all people to understand such 'complicated' matters. Keep believing what you want to, idiot."

Which then proceeded to Alois gasping and flinging a bunch of insults back at Claude, which resulted in Claude slagging off Alois, which resulted in Hannah trying to calm them down and pacify Alois by saying "Oh, sweetie, _of course_ diet water exists! And Claude, apologise."

This of course resulted in Claude getting moody and saying that he shouldn't be the one to apologise and listing a number of reasons as to why he was the one in the right, and therefore the model should be the one to apologise.

"Has anyone ever told you that you're an asshole?" Alois asked, and Claude actually had to let out a little snort at that, because yes, he had been told that multiple times, which he explained to the blonde.

Their drinks arrived then, and all was quiet for a few minutes, Claude could feel the caffeine beginning to pump through his veins and quickly excused himself to go have a quick smoke outside.

As he stood in the cold air greedily inhaling his nicotine, he started trying to figure out his thoughts. Obviously he _was_ going to paint Alois. Money is money, and Claude is definitely lacking in that department. Although he didn't particularly like the kid, what with his odd clothes and brash personality (and who the hell think's there is such a thing as diet water?) he didn't exactly _hate_ the kid like he normally did with other people. And, although Claude hated to admit it, he was _gorgeous_. Pale blonde hair that was messy in a delicious just got out of bed way, with electric blue eyes that sparkled with life and a lean form that was surprisingly curvy for a guy. He realised that the cigarette was finished and startled out of his reverie, oh god, he hadn't seriously spent the whole time thinking about the obnoxious brat had he? With a quick shake of his head he went back inside to join his agent and future model.

Hannah glanced at him as he sat back down, before announcing that perhaps they should try to get to know each other 'properly' considering "You boys are going to be working together for a while!" – Which Claude supposed was a good point. He was about to introduce himself properly and say the standard line of what he liked to do, and how he's glad to be working with Alois etcetera etcetera, when he was interrupted by Alois.

"Well you already know my name, um, I'm 19, I'm a model and Hannah represents me, and I like partying, and I know I'm going to be incredibly famous someday." And then he flashed Claude a grin and Claude kind of felt his breath be taken away for a little bit because when Alois smiled it was like nothing Claude had seen before.

"What kind of modelling do you do?" he found himself asking, racking his brain to think if he had seen the boy in any advertisements or art galleries. "Oh, nothing big- yet. At the moment I'm more just a private model, a few photographers have used me, and I was in a catalogue once, but that's about it. I've never been painted before though." And he sounded so sure of the fact that he would eventually be 'big' that Claude believed him.

As the men delved deeper into a conversation Hannah cleared her throat, announcing that it was time to leave. Before Claude could say anything Alois whipped out an expensive looking phone, fiddling with it for a few seconds before passing it to Claude "Here. Put your number in and I'll text you later about what times I'm free." After the deed was done Alois announced that he had to leave, and quickly slinked out of the café, hips swaying ridiculously.

As soon as Hannah noticed Claude's glare towards her she too announced that she had to go as well and quickly stood up to leave in a hurry. "Oh no you don't!" he frowned, asking for an explanation to what was going on.

"Well Claude I'd love to stay and chat, but I simply _must_ be going! And I think it's pretty simple, don't you? You are a painter. Alois is a model. You need to paint Alois if you want to keep your job. Simple." And with that she strode out of the café, her heels clicking rapidly as she left.

Claude sighed and made to leave, quickly firing a text depicting an angry emoticon to Hannah, until he realised that they had both left him with the bill to foot. _'Bitches, the lot of them'_

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><p><strong>AN: Oops. Just take it. Ignore the fact it took over a year to update. I actually have legit personal reasons for once. Ignore that my writing is god-awful. Ignore the fact that I can't even remember the plot anymore. Shhhh. (However thanks for the support I've continued to get over this silly thing ilyguys)<strong>

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